The Crux
by whimsicalbubbles
Summary: "I'm being pulled away from this world, from this time, into another. I no longer belong here. Everything is pulling me away. The world doesn't need me now; it needs me to shape this now into what it needs to be."
1. Prologue

_**Prologue**_

A piercing cry split the air, followed by the sound of shattering glass.

A handsome man entered the room, scanning the room for threats, before taking in the woman crouched on the floor by the remains of a glass vase. Seeing no source for the alarm, he hurried to the woman. Kneeling beside her, he held her arms to lift her to face him.

"Fay?" His voice was tense, and became harder when no response came. "Fay! What is it? What is wrong?"

The woman finally lifted her tearstained face to his, staring at him as though she had never seen him before.

His voice softened, as he searched her face. "Fay?

She finally spoke, her voice frightened. "Tom?"


	2. December 1926

_**December 1926**_

There was only pain.

Pain resided in every cell of her body. She couldn't move, she couldn't escape.

Pain filled her mind. Faces and places and memories danced across her mind, before slipping away. Nothing could be kept, nothing could be held. It all burned like fire and then vanished away.

She wished for oblivion. Freedom from pain must exist.

The pain didn't stop.


	3. June 1931

**_June 1931_**

The crash of the waves, the call of the gulls blended into an endless babel.

Time was irrelevant. Moments lasted eternities, yet nothing ever changed.

The pain was still present. It no longer consumed for there was little left for it to ravage. But it smouldered and burned, always present.

But it is not human nature to remain untouched and unchanged.

She became aware of the ground where she sat. Slowly, ever so slowly, she realized she was not comfortable where she was. She shifted and the ground shifted with her. She moved her feet back and forth and felt the rough ground move with them.

It was rocky.

No that wasn't right.

It was grainy. Like…

Like sand.

She blinked and for the first time her mind processed what her eyes were seeing.

Rolling, grey waves crashed on a rocky shore. Dark cliffs surrounded the small beach. The sky was dark and the clouds seemed to press down on the earth.

She watched the waves and heard their sound, she felt the grainy, rock ridden sand. She felt the cool, moist breeze ruffle her hair and chill her skin. She could smell the ocean and taste it in the air.

The infinite stopped and the finite came to be.

She experienced the world. She reached out and felt the world, felt the unseen power that filled the air. She reached inside and felt the power inside her, powerful and bright. She touched it and used it to move the world. Waves on the point of breaking froze and became statues of water. Figures of sand rose together and danced before dispersing, and new creations rose from their dust. The wind whipped and roared one moment, before dying unnaturally the next.

Then she felt him. The world settled back to its place as she turned to look at him.

A child stood there. Dark hair and eyes, pale skin. He was beautiful.

He stood there looking at her. His eyes flickering around the beach that had been in commotion only moments ago.

"How did you do that?" He asked, his voice cold and clear.

She cocked her head and studied him. She could feel the power in him; he was strong. She motioned for him to come closer, before turning back toward the sea. She let the magic move through her once again bringing the sandy figures to life once more. She let the magic dance through them and roam free.

She felt his presence at her shoulder. He stood watching for a time, his eyes intent on the play before them.

"Can I try?"

She smiled and nodded and let the figures rest once again. His face was serious with a scowl of concentration.

She watched as she saw the sand move to form a misshapen figure before slipping away. The boy's scowl intensified and his efforts doubled. The sand moved again and again forming unclear figures, before slipping away.

She reached over and took his hand, letting her magic brush his to guide him. This time the figure became a large serpent that swayed before striking suddenly, before it disappeared in a cloud of sand.

He hadn't jumped at the strike of the snake. He seemed to have been waiting for her to spring away in fear. They were still, listening to the ocean roar, and his hand tightened in hers.

Then the wind carried a woman's shout, calling for the boy, to where they sat. With a frown he turned towards it.

"I have to go," he said.

She nodded and gave a faint smile before releasing his hand. She continued watching the sea.

He hesitated before taking a few steps towards where the woman was calling. He halted again and turned towards her.

"My name is Tom," he said. When shouts of the woman became more demanding, he turned and ran away.

Silence reigned again on the beach and she sat watching the water and the sky. It was nearly nightfall before she spoke.

"Tom."


	4. September 1931

**_September 1931_**

She was unsure of how she had come to this place.

She had walked and walked and walked, being toward something familiar.

And now she was standing in a rather deary part of a city. The building before her was as foreboding as its surroundings. She stepped lightly through the iron gates into a nearly deserted courtyard. It's only inhabitants were two boys in a corner who appeared to be engaged in an argument.

She watched as the larger boy shoved the smaller one against the railing. The small boy's face was angry and his eyes were far colder than any child's eyes should have been.

She had nearly reached them before they became aware of her presence. The larger boy turned and gave her a bewildered look. He slowly backed away, then turned and ran inside.

She watched the smaller, dark-haired boy. He wasn't much bigger than when she had last seen him but his hair was longer; almost due for a trim. He met her eyes with his own dark gaze.

Crouching, she studied him before reaching out a hand. He watched, deliberating, then walked slowly towards her and took her hand. She smiled slightly and led him out of the lonely courtyard, into the bustling city.

* * *

It was almost dark by the time Tom re-entered the orphanage gates. He had walked with the girl for hours. She had stopped often, looking pained. Sometimes when he spoke she didn't seem to hear him.

But then she would look at him and smile, her eyes sad. When she wasn't hurting she would always listen to him. But she never spoke.

Then all at once she had gasped and vanished. Her hand had slipped from his and then she slipped away. He knew she was going somewhere but he didn't know where.

Tom frowned, looking at the dark building. He hated it. He didn't want to go inside. He wanted to wait for the girl to come back. He sat down on the steps and waited

* * *

_**Author's Note:**__ I have several major chapters of this story already written out, including the ending, but it's the connecting chapters that take me a while. They will only be as long as I need them to be, so some will be very short._


	5. January 1933

**_January 1933_**

Tom continued to see the woman often. Sometimes it was the smallest of glimpses, but other times it would be days like that first time they had disappeared into the city. Sometimes she would be standing in the courtyard, simply watching. Other times he would catch sight of her as she wandered through London. She rarely stayed long, always slipping away to somewhere else.

The other children were frightened by her. They thought she was a ghost. The bigger children would make up stories of her to scare the younger ones. But they never scared Tom.

She was warm and real. When she saw him she would smile. When he spoke she listened.

But she often seemed in pain. And she didn't seem to notice the time that had passed.

* * *

The first time he heard her speak was the day after Tom turned six.

The girl in front of him was older and bigger, but she was weak. She was frightened. He had heard her telling ghost stories and threatening to tell Mrs. Cole the next time the girl appeared. She was always telling stories and tattling on the other children.

Tom hated her. He wanted to scare her. He wanted her to hurt. He knew he could do it.

She was crying, whimpering, and begging. And he was revelling in her fear, a cruel smile on his young face.

Suddenly, a hand gripped his shoulder and pulled him firmly away from her.

"Tom."

The voice wasn't one that he had heard before, but it felt familiar. It was quiet, rough from disuse, but firm.

He swung around and saw the girl standing over him. She was looking at him with disappointment. People often looked at him that way, but she never had. She looked so sad, as though she had expected him to do better. He wanted to cry out against that. People hated him and he wanted them to hurt for it. They weren't anything special; not like him. But the words stuck in his throat in the face of her disappointment.

She took his hand and led him away from the trembling, orphan girl. Tom sat with the woman on the steps leading into the orphanage. She just looked at him, searching his face. Tom squirmed. It wasn't often someone could make him so uncomfortable without him seeking retribution.

"Tom," she said again, her voice coming out in a sigh. But before Tom could say anything she disappeared from view.

* * *

_**Authors Note:**__ I apologize for the slow updates. I have several chapters of this story written, including the ending, but the in between chapters often give me problems. If you have any feedback or ideas, feel free to leave a review or message me._


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